Against All Odds
by marauderswagger
Summary: Hoping for a reprieve from his knights, Tom gets more than he bargained for when he steps through the room of requirement into a completely different moment in time. Tomione. AU. No horcruxes. Dark!Dumbledore.
1. Prologue - Tom

_I need privacy. I need a place to think. I need a place where my so-called knights aren't following me around like bloody lost dogs, unable to think for themselves for a single moment without needing me to intervene-_

A door appeared before Tom and he breathed a sigh of relief, shuffling forward quickly to separate himself from the rest of the castle before he lost his temper.

He lost his temper quite often, in fact; it was something that he struggled with since he was a boy. Blinding rage would blur his vision and he would lash out, punishing whatever - or whomever - had brought the anger on in the first place. Hell, he felt as if he was using the cruciatus curse more often than any other spell these days, attempting to teach his knights to fall into line, listen, _obey._

But this time was different.

This time, he found his rage bubbling over more than ever, and he truly struggled to keep himself from completely falling into insanity, with only a small line between sanity and insanity existing in the first place.

Because surely, two of his knights weren't this stupid.

His knights weren't _so fucking stupid_ that they all but crippled a fifth year student, 'practicing' their unforgivables to _please_ him.

They weren't _so fucking stupid_ that they did a horrendous job obliviating her, where she could remember seeing a student in green robes during her attack.

They weren't _so. Fucking. Stupid._ That their faces still showed pride, expecting him to praise them, give them a pat on the back, be _thrilled_ that they had been practicing.

But they were. And he was _infuriated._

He seethed as an alarm went off in the back of his mind.

 _Watch it. You need people. Without these bloody idiots, you'll be unable to take the position you want. You can't have a following if everyone is dead._

So rather than having green light reverberating throughout his dormitory, slicing his followers down and just being done with it - with them, with their incompetencies, their _ignorance_ \- he left, slamming the portrait behind him and stalking to the corridor that held the room of hidden things.

If he couldn't torture his knights, then certainly, he could escape them for a bit, before things got out of hand. He needed time to breathe, to _think,_ before he had to go back and clean up their mess.

Again.

He wasn't the type to enjoy when things went wrong or were beyond his control.

So when he pushed the door open and practically ran inside, imagine his impending displeasure upon discovering his whole life, his entire _being_ , would be disrupted as the door closed swiftly behind him with a slight thud before disappearing entirely.

When he was introduced to the same corridor he had thought he was escaping from.

When he would discover that asking for an escape from his insufferable knights would result in him traveling forward in time, to September 12th, 1997; a time that undoubtedly separated him from his knights, but not necessarily in the way he had intended.

Merlin have mercy on the person who would inform him of this surprise.

Tom Riddle _hated_ surprises.

 **So, there it is! First chapter of my first Tomione story. I know it's short but I want to see if people are interested in it with a kinda preview? Idk but please follow/review and let me know what you think! I'll love you forever!**

 **-marauderswagger**


	2. Prologue - Hermione

**Hullo, everyone! Thank you for continuing with my story. I know it's off to a bit of a slow start with the first two chapters kinda short, but I had to give some background and set things up before really delving into things. Since the first two chapters are short (I consider them to be prologues, really), I'll be striving to update more quickly to get into the story more and get to the longer chapters I have planned.**

 **Thank you for the reviews I've received - I appreciate it so much, and will appreciate it even more if I continue to get them!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, even though I dream about it every night and cry that I wasn't creative enough to do so.**

" _No one is so brave that he is not disturbed by something unexpected." - Julius Caesar_

It had just reached curfew and Hermione was out doing her rounds, wandering the corridors of the castle she had called home for the past several years.

The Head Girl enjoyed doing rounds. It gave her time to truly think without interruption, and sometimes she enjoyed the solitude of the empty halls, the tapping of her shoes the only sound to be heard as she made her way through her respected areas to monitor.

She liked to use this time to work on spells for her practical lessons; enjoyed casting in the night without disruption or judgment- well, unless that judgment came from herself, of course. She strived for perfection - she was Hermione Granger, after all, the smartest witch of her time! - and found herself quick to frustrate when things didn't come easily for her.

So she spent most of her free time practicing and learning, because to her, knowledge was not only power - it was comfort. She was comfortable being the smartest witch. She was comfortable reading through all the books she could get her hands on in the library, striving to take in as much as she could before she left Hogwarts. She was even comfortable helping Harry and Ron with their homework almost every night - comfortable knowing that completing ninety percent of the work wasn't truly _helping_ , but she couldn't let her friends _fail_ \- and ensuring that they were at least passing all of their classes.

What she found uncomfortable was _change._

While she was excited for her exams and moving on from Hogwarts to go on to bigger and better things, she found herself struggling with the thought of leaving her home away from home. She knew who she was at Hogwarts. She was the best friend of Harry and Ron, the two people she was most close to, who she could trust with anything. She was Head Girl, a person the professors and students could depend on. She was the brainy know-it-all that was always the first to answer questions in class and complete any project assigned to her with more than enough detail to turn any of her essays into books.

Yes, Hermione knew herself at Hogwarts, and she wasn't quite ready to let go of her last year of school to face a whole new world; new people, new environment, new _Hermione_.

If she knew what was waiting around the corner for her, she would discover that change was coming more quickly than she could have ever expected.


	3. Unlikely Meeting

Hermione approached the corner of the corridor she was patrolling on the seventh floor, throwing _Hogwarts, a History_ as high as she could in the air for the seventh time that night.

"Arresto momentum," she murmured, smirking to herself as the book immediately stopped its descent and froze in the air. "Wingardium leviosa."

She performed the swish and flick movement she had perfected in first year, slowly lowering the book closer to her as she continued walking forward. She silently took notice of the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy hanging exactly where it always was- across the hall from where the Room of Requirement would be found, if one was smart or lucky enough to get the room to appear. Herself and her friends were among the few to have discovered it, having stumbled upon it fourth year when they were desperately searching for a place to hide from Draco Malfoy and his cronies after Harry and Ron had performed a ridiculous - albeit hilarious - prank on him. They had disillusioned his hair, causing everyone but himself to believe he was bald. A Malfoy without his precious, silvery-blond hair? As disapproving as she was outwards at the prank, she would still struggle to contain her laughter whenever she thought of it.

Glancing over the corridor further, she found something that she hadn't noticed immediately- she could only imagine her Defense Against the Dark Art's professor from fourth year's anger at her misstep, yelling _constant vigilance, Granger!_ at her as his eye would undoubtedly roll around without appearing to have a specific destination in mind.

Swearing under her breath, she lost focus of her spell, causing her book to drop to the floor with a loud _thud_.

The boy turned towards her quickly, eyes narrowed at her as if _she_ was disturbing _him._

She reeled in her anger at his expression - honestly, how could he not realize who she was and what bloody time it was? - and stepped forward, attempting to get a better look at who he was and which house he belonged to.

She took notice of the green of his robes, struggling to stop her eyes from rolling before speaking.

 _Of course he's a Slytherin. It's always bloody Slytherins._

"Excuse me," she commanded, straightening her back and preparing for the inevitable argument, "it's nearly two hours past curfew, what are-"

"You really shouldn't be questioning the Head Boy while you're so blatantly breaking the rules," he interrupted, glaring down at her. She took notice of their height difference - blimey, how tall was he? 6'3? 6'4? _Merlin_ \- and froze as her gaze reached his face.

Alarms blared in her head, warning her, telling her that this person did not belong - that he wasn't a student at all, she would recognize him if he were-

And then she realized what he had said to her.

"Head Boy?" she laughed, finding it hilarious that this stranger's disguise was _Head Boy_ , when she was so familiar with the true Head Boy himself; his mere existence annoyed Hermione every day. "Not bloody likely. I'm not quite sure who you are or what you're doing here, but I'm _Head Girl_ , and there's no chance in Hell that you're Head Boy, unless Draco has keeled over suddenly and you're his replacement." Surely, this stranger had to be delusional.

She saw several emotions cross his face.

Confusion. Anger. Disbelief. Absolute rage-

And as quickly as his emotions had come, they disappeared, leaving only a blank expression on the extremely attractive boy's face. (She took note of herself finding him attractive, filing it away for a later time when she could contemplate her attraction to a trespasser that _still could be dangerous to her)_

She refocused on the boy as he spoke again.

"It seems there's been a slight.. Mistake. I must speak with the Headmaster at once to sort this."

He started as if he were to walk away - how would he know where the Headmaster's Office was without any guidance? - but Hermione stopped him, shaking her head to deter him.

"Headmaster Dumbledore isn't at the castle at the moment - he's out for the night, on a trip to help the school," she said, thinking of all the times Dumbledore had left the castle in her years at Hogwarts while he had 'trips' he simply had to go on, "But I can take you to the Deputy Headmistress. It'd be best so we could get this.. _Misunderstanding_ sorted."

She had quickly changed her wording in favor of 'misunderstanding' rather than her first thought of 'absolute madness' to prevent from making this conversation any more difficult than it already was.

The boy froze with the likeness of a statue; beautiful and rigid, but unquestionably cold.

"What exactly is the date?" He gritted out, seeming to struggle with her response.

"September 12th," she replied, matter-of-factly.

"And the year?"

"1997, of course."

If her future self were to look back at this moment - and undoubtedly, she would, as how can one not look back on the moment that shifted their life entirely without so much as a warning? - she would be able to confirm without any hesitation that she had never seen anyone as angry as that strange boy was in that very moment.

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 **And there we are, their first interaction! Pleaaaaase let me know what you think in the reviews and tell me what you like so far! (or what you don't like but hopefully we don't have to go there lol) but for real any feedback is appreciated. Most questions should be explained in the next chapter, like how she wasn't familiar with him, his reaction to him just appearing there and being confused, etc. Sending love and hugs and all that other stuff xxx until next chapter!**


	4. Of Introductions and Mood Swings

Rage is usually portrayed in shades of red, impairing the vision of those affected by it, tinting everything in sight; for Tom, however, it was as if his rage had caused the colour to melt from the world.

Hearing the girl with the frizzy hair - hair that seemed to spark with each change of her emotions, he noted from their encounter - essentially tell him he had traveled over fifty years into the future had drained the colour from his vision. He watched as it slowly dredged closer and closer to the hard stone floor before melting away completely into some imaginary hole, taking away any feeling other than true, unfiltered _anger._

All that he had worked for was gone - had disappeared with the sound of the Room of Requirement's door as it had shut behind him, sealing him in this _Hell_ that he undoubtedly could not escape from.

And Tom Riddle had certainly tried.

Before the girl had announced her arrival, slamming a book on the floor with her outstanding display of clumsiness, he had been trying to get the door to reappear. He thought that it was simply playing a joke on him, spitting him back out in the exact location he had walked through, like the Founders of Hogwarts were laughing in his face-

But it seemed they were, if only for a different reason.

Leave it to the Room of bloody Requirement to take his request too fucking seriously and take him as far away from his knights as possible.

Fifty fucking years in the future.

He would have laughed at the undeniable disaster if it hadn't left his blood boiling.

He imagined himself ripping them apart, one by one, for ruining his plans that were _seven years_ in the making.

Seven fucking years.

All of it.

Gone.

Gone, and he would have to start over, find more _insufferable idiots_ to manipulate into following him; attempt to mold them into puppets that would fail him, _again,_ just like all the others.

Because no matter how much he could teach someone - and Tom was quite the tutor in his time - he couldn't teach someone common sense, or give them the proclivity to figure things out for themselves.

The sound of a person huffing in front of him pulled him from his thoughts.

Tom sighed, shoving his anger into the deepest recess of his mind, available at a whim's notice whenever something inconvenienced him greatly - or, if he was being honest, even inconvenienced him in the slightest. He certainly wasn't the most even tempered person to walk the halls of Hogwarts.

Allowing his face to fall into the perfect facade of calm, unfeeling nothingness that he had mastered over the years, he acknowledged the person in front of him who had started to shuffle from foot to foot subconsciously, staring at him with poorly hidden anxiety.

"Pardon me," he murmured. "I'm sorry for the confusion surrounding this situation. It appears the Room of Requirement has sent me forward in time, and I'm a bit out of sorts." He did his best to look sheepish, diverting his gaze from her eyes momentarily for authenticity.

"Er-what?" She responded, looking dumbfounded.

It seems that the students weren't much brighter in this time than they were in his. Brilliant.

"I asked the room to provide me with an area away from some issues I was having, and it brought me here. Stepped through the door in 1944, stepped out in 1997."

The girl continued to stare and he began to question whether she had a brain at all.

"How else can I explain this?" He grouched, slowing his sentences down as much as he found possible. "Me, Tom, go through door fifty years ago-"

"I'm not an idiot!" She growled, red colouring her cheeks as her eyes narrowed. "It's just- the Head Boy disappearing. That's just a rumour spread by second years to scare the firsties. It's not real- right? It can't be right."

"It seems there's some truth to it, I'm afraid. First hand experiences and all that."

"Well- I- We should probably-"

"Do you always speak so eloquently?"

" _Excuse me_! I can't take _everything_ in stride! I'm doing my rounds and you're just dropped into my lap, fifty years from the past, and I'm supposed to just accept it? Oh, all good and well, just any other night, right? Maybe for _you_ , but not everyone can have mood swings for days and just snap back to normal at the drop of a wand!"

She threw her arms up in the air, huffing her breath out after working herself up. He struggled to contain a laugh at the disdain for him painted so blatantly on her face as he leaned against the wall, raising an eyebrow at her.

He chose to ignore her comment on his emotions for another time.

"So, are you going to introduce yourself and take me to the Deputy Headmistress or are we to continue standing here so you can accost me with your flailing limbs?"

He watched as she took a deep breath, appearing to be trying to calm herself down.

"He's just out of sorts," he heard her mumble to herself like a mantra. "He time traveled. He doesn't know what's happening. He's just out of sorts.."

It was so easy for him to get underneath her skin already, and he had to admit, he was having a bit of fun riling her up - surely, it was much better than any other event from his night, which seemed to have spanned fifty years. He almost grimaced at his internal dialogue, not fully forgiving himself for the awful pun.

"Hermione. Hermione Granger."

"Pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger, even given the unfortunate circumstances. I'm Tom Riddle."

He held his hand out for her to shake and he watched as it hung in solitude for four seconds before she stepped forward and grasped it.

"Pleasure." She gave him a small smile before releasing his hand and turning on her toes - not entirely gracelessly, he noticed - and straightening her shoulders before leading the way. "This way to the Deputy Headmistress. She always knows what to do."

He followed behind, only briefly aware that her hair had different tones of honey that glowed as she walked under the lights of the torches.

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 **Hi, again! Hope you enjoyed this bit. I'm trying to have Tom and Hermione both be a bit less rigid than they were in the books but trying to keep to their personalities as much as possible. If I'm getting too OOC lemme know, but this is how I've always imagined them interacting in my head.**

 **As aaaalways, please leave me a review if you're reading! Even just a quick hi will make me super happy :)**

 **Until next time xxx**


	5. Dreams vs Reality

Tom and Hermione stumbled out of Professor McGonagall's office nearly three hours after their initial arrival.

It had been _exhausting_ explaining what had occurred - that no, he had not taken a portkey; yes, he really came from 1942; no, he was not up to any "funny business"; and _yes,_ he was telling the complete truth.

Tom couldn't believe how many questions he had to answer - it wasn't like he had vanished from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons! It was this very castle that he had left after having inhabited it for _seven years_ \- and he was the fucking _Head Boy_ , not to mention one of the most intelligent wizards ever to have existed.

And he certainly wasn't being arrogant when he called himself intelligent. It was just a fact in his time: the sky is blue, the grass is green,Tom Riddle is incredibly smart. Simple enough. The entirety of the castle knew it to be true in his time - he had never received anything less than an O in any of his classes and his professors were basically tripping over themselves to talk to him, hoping to make a lasting impression for " _when he was off doing bigger, better things"._ It was pathetic, he knew - but he enjoyed the attention.

He struggled to keep his internal dialogue just that - internal. He could feel it bubbling up inside of him, threatening to spill out with every second that passed. _How about we actually get to something productive, instead of interrogating me like I'm some bloody criminal, questioning every answer I've given-_

Professor McGonagall had looked frazzled when he had explicitly asked, in the nicest voice he could muster up despite his rising temper, "Why can't we take a look at my file? Surely, all the information you're searching for should be there." He schooled his face and body to appear merely calm and inquisitive; a friendly smile with a slight dimple in his cheeks, his body language open and receptive, his broad shoulders set straight and his right leg crossed over his left. He was the embodiment of calm, not allowing a single speck of his internal turmoil leak through his perfect defense system: his appearance.

She had given him a stern look, her mouth seemingly permanently pursed in displeasure - did the woman ever smile? - before wandering off to Merlin knows where to find it.

He just couldn't grasp why this was such an issue. He was _Tom Riddle,_ for Salazar's sake. Why was this not a more scandalized affair?

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, counting backwards from ten and imagining himself to be anywhere but the overwhelmingly small office. He had almost wished Dumbledore was there, if only to save the time of going over this nonsense. He snorted internally at the thought, knowing damn good and well that he wasn't looking forward to his eventual introduction to 'Headmaster Dumbledore', fifty years older than the last time Tom saw him.

"You'd think they'd be a bit more organized," the girl beside him said, shuffling in her seat to look at him. He had forgotten that she was there - she had sat so quietly in the seat beside him, assuredly taking in the poor excuse for a conversation that unfolded before her. "The rumour of the disappearing Head Boy has been going around for ages. Everyone just assumed it was a bluff to keep students from wandering the halls alone at night."

"Oh, _brilliant_ , I've become a parable," Tom growled.

Hermione laughed at him - something that those familiar with him would be weary to do - and he felt a tightening in his stomach, disappearing almost as quickly as it had come.

"Are you always this despondent?"

"Certainly not. Only when it appears the entirety of Hogwarts has forgotten my existence."

"It appears nobody had forgotten your existence, Mr. Riddle," Professor McGonagall regrettably interrupted, returning with a thick file dedicated to him. "It says here that you discontinued your education to follow other scholarly pursuits. Yet here you sit, appearing to not have aged in the fifty years since your.. _Disappearance._ " She hesitated on the last word as though she were uncomfortable to say it aloud.

Tom stared at the aging witch in front of him as he processed the information. He forced his voice to stay even and his face to stay somber, struggling to keep his insides from combusting-

The muscle in his jaw ticked, the only outward display of his displeasure. "I don't know who decided to fabricate my disappearance, or _why,_ but clearly they had ill intentions."

"I.. I see that, Mr. Riddle. It will be reported to Headmaster Dumbledore immediately upon his return."

She gave him a look meant to comfort him and he felt bile rise up in his throat, none too happy that the old witch _pitied_ him. He was not the type to accept others' attempts at empathy. Empathy was synonymous to weakness, and if there was one thing that Tom _wasn't_ , it was weak.

"I promise you, we will get this figured out. The proof is directly in front of me," McGonagall gestured towards Tom, "and now that you have returned, we will make sure that you have everything you need to finish your final year here at Hogwarts."

"Thank you, Professor," he said, voice low and appreciative, "I look forward to Headmaster Dumbledore's return so I can speak with him about the matter." Tom gave a half smile as he lied seamlessly. "He was my Transfiguration professor, in fact, so he should certainly remember me."

Fucking Albus Dumbledore. Tom seethed internally, hatred for the older wizard running through his veins. This whole plot had something to do with him - he felt the truth burn down to the core of his body - and he intended to find out just why the old bastard had hidden his vanishment within a rumour, telling students that he had gone to other scholarly pursuits-

He was sure that it was so convenient that all of this happened when he was about to graduate, when he was to take his knights and show the world who was truly the greatest wizard- and it certainly _was not_ Albus Dumbledore.

He had tuned out McGonagall as she rambled on about the Ministry of Magic, the current time period, and whatever else seemed to come to mind. She was talking merely to prevent the room from going silent and he found it to be incredibly boring. Small talk is indicative of small minds, after all, and was something he did not like to participate in. Why meander around a topic when you can get straight to the point?

Hermione interrupted Professor McGonagall, and he could've kissed Merlin's feet for the reprieve. He had already escaped one annoyance tonight and would like to avoid any more.

"What do we do about Head Boy? There's never been an event that has lead to having two Head Boys - it would've been in _Hogwarts, a History."_

"I'm well aware, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied. She raised an eyebrow at Hermione but her eyes softened as she looked at Tom. "However, I think he's gone through quite enough. I see no reason that he and Mr. Malfoy can be.. Well, co-head boys, I suppose. That seems fitting."

She flicked through his file again briefly before looking between the two students with a small smile on her face.

"And it appears the two of you will be taking most of your classes together, so I see no reason why Ms. Granger here couldn't be your go-to to ensure that you transition comfortably."

"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I'm sure Tom is _entirely_ comfortable with this transition. I mean, really, to assign him - well, a babysitter of sorts - surely offends him greatly."

"Of course, I'm completely capable of managing this on my own-"

"Nonsense. There's no need to be noble; you're going to be working together as Head Boy and Head Girl, I'm sure you'll build a rapport quickly." Her voice slipped into a more business-like tone, eliminating the possibility of a rebuttal from the two students. Where was this woman five minutes ago? Tom straightened in his seat, finally interested in her dialogue. "Mr. Riddle, you'll be joining Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy in the Head's dormitory. The castle has a tendency to adapt to its student's needs, so a room should be ready and waiting for you. You'll stay in your original house, Slytherin, that is overseen by your Head of House, Professor Slughorn; luckily that should be familiar to you. All required items for your classes should be waiting for you by morning, I'll send ahead for them. Here's your lessons schedule - as I mentioned before, you and Miss Granger have several together, so you should at least have a friendly face with you most times."

She stood to dismiss them and her eye's met Tom's, an expression of resolve set on her wrinkling face.

"We will get to the bottom of this, Mr. Riddle. Have no qualms about that."

And with that she ushered them out into the deserted corridor, shutting the door behind her with an audible click.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning, groggy from a lifelike dream that had encompassed her fully. She decidedly was _not_ a morning person; she regularly needed at least eight hours of sleep or she'd find herself resembling a grumpy Crookshanks, glaring at any person that bothered to talk to her before ten in the morning. There was a reason he was her familiar, after all.

She stumbled into her bathroom in a haze, stripping her pajamas quickly and tripping over her flannel pajama bottoms. She stumbled forward and swore under her breath, rubbing the knee that had collided with the toilet in her awkward attempt to catch herself from falling.

Her day was not off to the best start.

She turned on the shower and allowed the room to steam up, stepping in and taking comfort in the nearly blazing water that would hopefully relieve some of the stiffness in her neck. Whenever she was stressed - which, honestly, when wasn't she? She was the bloody Head Girl - she would develop an awful soreness in her neck that only a skin-burning shower could cure. She rested her head on the cool tile of the wall as the water poured over her, trickling down her lightly tanned skin and disappearing down the drain. She wished she could curl up on the floor and return to her rest while the water kept her comfortably warm. She could stay in the shower for hours if she could get away with it, but unfortunately it never seemed to be one of those mornings.

The Head Girl regretfully shut off the water after washing her hair and body quickly, rinsing off and stepping out of the shower. Her mind was thankfully blank from the pounding that would certainly make a return after her deep but restless sleep.

She couldn't remember the last time she had a dream that was so vivid; usually she awoke with only a glimmer of what had passed through her mind during slumber, and by breakfast it had slipped from her mind completely, never to be brought up again.

She dreamt of time travel and a ridiculously handsome boy who had an unfortunate habit of being a bit too snarky and sarcastic - his smile had promised trouble and mischief, but she found herself drawn to him all the same. Warmth pooled in her stomach at the thought of the dream boy - Tom, she remembered - and she wanted to laugh at herself for being attracted to someone her mind had made up. Her only problem was he dream had left her feeling out of sorts, almost as if her mind had stepped out of her body for the night, returning only when the tug of her inevitable awakening demanded her to return. She felt a bout of anxiety shoot through her at the unfamiliar feeling.

She approached the mirror and took a hard look at her body, almost as if she was trying to reassure herself that she hadn't changed overnight. Gazing quickly over her form, she ran through a mental checklist to ensure everything was still the same: unruly hair that had already started to frizz, brown with slight highlights from spending time in the sun; freckles lightly coating her cheeks and her nose; a slender body that wasn't entirely fit but certainly wasn't anything to frown about; a slight curve in her hips that had developed around fourth year; and finally, completely average legs that were covered in bruises and cuts from her unfortunate clumsiness that had plagued her since she was a child. She released a breath she wasn't aware she was holding upon the normality of seeing _her_ body, convincing herself that since everything about her was still the same, everything else was the same as well.

Hermione blinked and the girl in the mirror blinked back, bright brown eyes staring back at her that swirled with speckles of amber. The girl seemed to be sending Hermione a message that the seventh year wasn't in the mood to decipher at that moment.

She quickly finished getting ready and stepped out into the common room of the Head Girl and Boy's dormitories, trying to run a brush through her Merlin-forsaken hair but not quite accomplishing her goal.

She began gathering her things that were already scattered across the room, mentally scolding herself for the disarray; it was only the second week of classes and she'd already let her studies take over most of her time, and evidently, most of her space. She found books on the comfy black sofa, parchment sprawled across the ottoman with her small and barely legible writing, and two empty bottles of ink sitting on the coffee table.

Hermione had gotten into an argument with Malfoy about 'the fucking disaster' - his words, not hers - and it was one thing she felt she could ever agree with him upon. She knew she was disorganized when it came to her studies, but disorganization was her form of planning; she never had any of her fellow Gryffindors complain. She did realize that was probably because she always helped them with her homework, but they abstained from complaints, so she took it as a minor inconvenience for everyone else. When she had brought it up Draco had disagreed vehemently, acting like she had performed the Cruciatus on his mum, and insisted that she keep things more tidy, that they weren't ' _bloody trolls_ '. She imagined he had quite a few house elves cleaning up after him at home and possibly in his room when she wasn't around - she refused to have a house elf do things she was completely capable of doing on her own - but she kept her commentary to herself, resolving that it would be good for her to try to organize.

"Good morning, Granger," a deep voice greeted, causing her to sigh as she prepared for the inevitable argument regarding her belongings.

"Before you start, Malfoy, I've not had the best morning, so you might want to think about that before you start nagging-"

A low melodious laugh echoed through the common area and Hermione stopped in the middle of picking up her things, a book half-hanging from her hand as she searched for the origin of the sound.

All the colour drained from her face as she realized that in her exhaustion she had foolishly convinced herself that the events of the night before were merely a dream.

Tom Riddle, the infuriatingly handsome boy with the smart mouth, leaned casually against the wall adjacent to her with his arms crossed and a mischievous smirk on his face. He must have quietly descended the stairs that weren't there the day prior which she assumed led to his newly developed room, courtesy of the Hogwarts Founders themselves.

The entirety of the night before flashed before her eyes and she felt the heat of a blush forming on her cheeks.

 _Oh, fucking hell._

"Now's the point in the conversation where you greet me back," he said innocently, like she had only just began to learn English and she needed help with her sentence structures. He raised an eyebrow as she glared at him and she mentally cursed herself for finding his blatant rudeness attractive.

"I'm bloody well aware of how to have a conversation, Riddle," she growled back at him, "I was simply under the impression that to have a conversation, both parties must be willing participants."

"Ouch. You wound me, Hermione." He held his hand over his heart briefly, adding a dramatic flare to his words before winking at her. "Are you always this short-tempered in the morning? We'll have to work on that."

She counted to ten in her head, begging for patience that she found to be incredibly fleeting before eleven in the morning.

"Yeah, she's always a bitch in the morning," Malfoy grunted, descending down the stairs from his dormitory, dressed for the day with his silvery-blond hair slicked back in the trademarked Malfoy style, not a wrinkle to be seen on his uniform or robes. Hermione flinched at the insult, missing the dark look that settled on Tom's face when Draco spoke. "Part of the Granger charm."

"Oh, get bent, Malfoy," she said dismissively, making sure her voice was unaffected by his rude commentary. She was used to name calling from him, but still wasn't pleased by the way the Slytherin talked to her like she was beneath him. She was beneath _no one_ , and was unafraid to show that whenever given the opportunity.

Tom pushed off the wall after observing the two student's interaction and took what felt like two steps - seriously, how long were his legs? - to stand next to her, his face blank as he looked at Malfoy. She cast a quick _accio_ to gather her remaining items around the room, angry at herself for not thinking to do so before - and shoved them in her bag.

"Hermione and I are going to hang back a moment so we will not be accompanying you to breakfast," Tom said pragmatically, not giving her the opportunity to rebut his decision. "She needs filled in on what happened after she went to sleep, and I will relieve you of that task."

A look flashed between the two Slytherins that Hermione couldn't decipher before Draco nodded, walking past them as he exited the portrait hole.

"Something happened after I went to sleep?" the Head Girl turned towards him, her brow creased in confusion. Admittedly, she had thought her entire interaction with him was a dream, but she didn't need him to be aware of that in any way.

"You could've been the inferi with the way you stumbled into the common room, Granger," He let out a soft chuckle. "I don't think you were up to the task of introducing me to my.. _Fellow Head Boy._ " She could hear the distaste in his voice at the title he now shared with Draco, his annoyance flashing in his eyes. "But don't worry, we've been acquainted, so I suppose your misstep of forgetting to introduce me is forgiven."

Hermione blushed as he called her out on her mistake but raised her chin defiantly, not willing to let a bloke she'd just met chastise her. _Honestly_ , who did he think he was?

"Since it appears you're capable of putting sentences together on your own, surely it wasn't necessary for me to be involved in the first place."

They stared at each other for a moment, both seemingly annoyed with the way their conversation had turned; her bright brown eyes swirled with shades of amber and gold as they met his, dark and cold, glowing like two obsidian orbs. She noticed his jaw was set as he thought very intensely about something she couldn't quite pinpoint - certainly he couldn't be upset with her for her response, he didn't get to be a prick without expecting retaliation-

"Fair enough," he murmured, so quietly she could barely understand him. His face softened and he stepped away from her, motioning towards the portrait hole.

"We better get to breakfast - don't want to miss out on meeting my new classmates," Tom said too brightly, making his sarcasm known.

Hermione took an extra second to stare at him in disbelief before slinging her bag over her shoulder.

"Y'know, you should probably see someone about those mood swings of yours," Hermione mumbled, making to walk past him and out of the common room without waiting for his response, but she tripped on the foot of the coffee table. She swore under her breath as the pain shot up her calf, more than likely already bruising underneath her stockings. She was extremely thankful that she hadn't fallen on her face in front of the new Head Boy, but it appeared he hadn't planned on letting her crash to the floor as he had grabbed her elbow, securing her in place.

"I'll be sure to do that, Granger - just as soon as you get a handle on walking." He smirked and let go of her.

Hermione snorted out a quick laugh and covered her mouth immediately, mortified that she had made such a weird sound around the seemingly perfect Tom Riddle.

She saw him make a weird look at her that disappeared so quickly she figured she imagined it, then shot her a quick smile.

She could've melted on the spot if she was being honest with herself. He had dimples - _bloody dimples!_ \- and she immediately decided that she should _not_ be honest with herself, mentally stomping on her stupid, overly Lavender Brown-like thoughts. Hermione was _smart,_ she didn't need to let herself get distracted by some overly attractive boy who showed up out of _nowhere_ \- she needed to focus on her N.E.W.T.S., and getting a halfway decent job when she left Hogwarts. She didn't find his almost-black hair attractive, though it curled just right to frame his face perfectly. She didn't think he had the best bone structure she had ever seen on a man. She didn't think his eyes, although incredibly dark, were hiding secrets that she wouldn't mind being privy to-

"You know, it's rude to stare, Hermione," Tom interrupted, laughing quietly as he bypassed her and gracefully leapt out of the portrait hole into the corridor.

" _I wasn't staring!"_

Her retort was heard by her alone as the portrait closed shut, leaving Hermione standing in the common room.

 _Fucking Tom Riddle._

* * *

 **A/N: There you have it, background and such that'll pop up again later in the story. Keep in mind that this Hermione hasn't been through the horror that canon!Hermione battled with, so she's going to be a little.. softer and more nervous, not having the confidence that she gained through fighting her whole life. Don't worry, she'll develop into that eventually. OH, and Tom hasn't made any horcruxes yet. More on that later.**

 **Much love, guys, I appreciate you reading! Leave me a review or comment just to say you're still interested lol xxxx**


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